


D.S. al coda

by Stultiloquentia



Category: Glee
Genre: Episode: s06e08 A Wedding, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-28
Updated: 2016-02-28
Packaged: 2018-05-23 18:20:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6125797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stultiloquentia/pseuds/Stultiloquentia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It's our wedding night."<br/>"Oh. Huh."</p>
            </blockquote>





	D.S. al coda

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you misqueue, pene and likeadeuce for being excellent.

(Standing in the middle of Blaine's disassembled apartment, Kurt took his ex-fiancé's hands in both of his, and sniffled. "We'll take it slow," he swore.)

*

It was still early in the evening when Blaine caught Kurt's eye across the room and knew it was time to go. He nodded at his brand new husband over Tina's shoulder, watched his shoulders dip minutely in relief, and then turned back to give Tina the last few seconds of her dance while Kurt slipped off to kiss Burt and Carole and grab their coats. They met outside the barn with no discussion. Kurt reached for Blaine's hand and held tight as they made their escape across the pocked lawn. The sky was a deep, dark blue, with a crescent moon just peeping through the trees, thin as a wedding band.

Blaine drove. Kurt flipped open a brochure Burt had had in his custody and fed him directions to an inn just a few miles from the wedding venue. The room was already booked and paid for. Maybe sometime later they would muster some embarrassment for their friends' stunning audacity, but at that moment it was just one more detail out of dozens to blink at and meekly accept.

The inn had a blue and white awning over the door and gingerbread in the gables. Inside, they were greeted by a small, white pom-pom of a dog and an owlish man in a waistcoat. Blaine apologized for the late hour, but the man looked comfortably ensconced behind his desk. He said, "Oh, I'm reading a very exciting book. I couldn't go to bed if I tried!" and waved them off with a smile. Blaine caught a glimpse of the spine before they went upstairs: it was _Women in Love_.

They found their room, clicked the door shut behind them, dropped their overnight bags on an old-fashioned, velveteen-upholstered chair. The day had stretched so long. The realness of it would take time to settle in Blaine's heart, but he felt more right than he had in months, maybe longer. Kurt's eyes were dark and pensive, though his grip on Blaine's hand was sure. They looked at each other, alone and quiet for the first time in hours. Kurt opened his mouth, paused, then said, "I am so excited for my toothbrush." Blaine blinked, and they both broke into tired giggles.

Kurt detached himself from Blaine and turned toward the bathroom. "Right," he said, surveying the telephone booth-sized space. "We are saving our pennies, and someday we're going to rent the biggest, most ludicrous honeymoon suite we can stand. It will have a heart shaped hot tub."

"Cool," said Blaine, hooking his chin over Kurt's shoulder. They shuffled in, and brushed their teeth side by side.

"Do you want a shower?" 

Blaine shrugged. "I'm fine if you are. I'll just wash my face." They loosened their ties and collars and washed up perfunctorily with the hotel's lavender scented soap. Kurt wrapped his arm around Blaine's waist and kissed his clean, pink cheek. 

Back in the bedroom, Blaine peered out the window at silhouettes of tree branches and drew the curtains while Kurt flicked on the little vintage bedside lamp and turned back the bedclothes. They met by the footboard. Kurt reached up and ran his finger along Blaine's lapel, a little shyly. "So much for taking it slow," Blaine murmured. Kurt snorted in startled amusement, hauled Blaine close and thunked his forehead down on his shoulder. 

"I'm not sorry," he muttered, muffled, and dug his fingers into Blaine's jacket. 

Blaine rubbed his back. "Nope. A little poleaxed, but never, ever sorry."

Under Blaine's hands, Kurt's shoulders tensed up again. His face popped back into Blaine's view and he said, "We rushed through the rings and promises part...but we don't have to rush anything else. If you're tired." Blaine shook his head mildly at him, but he barreled on. "We still have so much talking and planning and deciding to do, and I know we have such a terrible track record of skipping ahead to the awesome sex, and tricking ourselves into thinking great sex can take the place of great communication, and that's _exactly_ what I wanted so badly to avoid this time, and—" He stalled out, hunting for words like he'd dropped his cue cards.

Blaine jostled him, lightly. "Kurt. Kurt, love, we had this conversation already. We'll talk. Oh God, will we talk. We're gonna be fine, I promise you. But I think it's fair to change things up a little, now." He let a little of his wonderment creep into his voice. "It's our wedding night."

"Oh. Huh."

Blaine snickered at him.

"I guess we only get one of those, really. I guess we should..."

"We should do what we want," said Blaine. "What do you want, Kurt?" Kurt didn't answer immediately, but remained glomped around Blaine, just breathing. Blaine let him think about it. It was odd to be the one doing the soothing. It felt like a long time since Blaine had been calm while Kurt jittered, yet as soon as Kurt had slid the ring on his finger that afternoon, he'd felt like the whole world had come into focus. He waited patiently to hear what Kurt would ask for.

"Actually...." Kurt surfaced, expression soft, but complicated with some memory. "Do you remember the opening night of _West Side Story_?"

Of course Blaine did. "You want to recreate our first time?" He smiled to think of it. They'd still been so mysterious to each other back then, yet so determined.

Kurt flushed. "Not moment for moment! But. I remember the way it felt like a beginning, for me." His hands crept under Blaine's jacket and spanned his waist; his thumbs stroked warmly. "It was such a stressful week, and then I saw you up on stage, and the way you gave and gave, to Rachel, to the audience, to me...and it was like, boom, clarity. I wanted you, and you were mine. Everything else was incidental."

Blaine touched his finger to Kurt's white corsage. "You had your tailor's scissors here."

"Yes. They make me feel capable."

"I know."

"Ha, and then we made out in the auditorium, abandoned everyone, and had what _still_ holds the record for our most awkward car ride ever. And then we got to your house and all I could think about was that I didn't know when I was supposed to take my socks off."

"I remember how you took your vest off and fussed over it."

"And then you blurted out of nowhere that you had condoms, and went red as a beet."

Blaine hung his head with a laugh. He slid his hand into his pocket, pulled a little foil packet out with two fingers, and met Kurt's eyes again, twinkling. "I was so nervous. You were so nice to me. I had all these plans to make you feel cherished that night, and then you wound up taking care of _me_."

"I did feel cherished. I'd never in my life felt so safe."

"That's what I want for us," Blaine breathed. He reached up and fit his hand around the fine, dear curves of Kurt's jaw and nape. "Can we have that again?" 

Kurt tipped forward and pressed his forehead against Blaine's for a moment, sharing his air. Then he pulled back just enough to catch Blaine's gaze again and hold it. "We'll build it." And then Blaine had to kiss him.

Kissing Kurt was so simple, so effortlessly good, that it did feel like the solution to every problem, the answer to every question. Heat flared up between them, sweet and strong. 

Blaine held still under the ticklish, delicate work of Kurt's fingers on his buttons as Kurt removed his jacket and shirt, then peeled him out of his undershirt. Kurt's breath hitched audibly when he put his hands back on Blaine's skin, and then he breathed in and out, as if drawing breath to speak. "God, I missed your body. I tried—I spent months trying to think about other bodies, and—I didn't like any of them, they weren't—"

"I know. Shh, I know, Kurt, let me, please—" Kurt scrambled to obey, tugging open his belt and fly while Blaine slid Kurt's shirt off his shoulders. And that much skin made it impossible to resist the lure of more, so they kept going, pulling and fumbling and caressing, until they were standing naked in front of each other. "We're not indulging your fantasy anymore," Blaine whispered. "We didn't even make it out of our undershirts that first time." 

Kurt smiled at the memory of soft cotton and secrets half revealed. "Well, we're not children anymore."

"I suppose not."

"I still feel childish, often enough."

"Do you?" Blaine marveled. "I always think of you as beating me to adulthood. You were so impatient, so ready for it, even when we were in high school."

"I wanted to be. When we first met I felt like I was scrambling to catch up with _you_. All grown up and fascinating with your blazer and your five o'clock shadow." He brushed his knuckles over Blaine's prickly jaw.

"Fascinating!"

"Mmhm. And sexy. So easy in your skin." Kurt swayed in place, just enough to brush their bare torsos together in a glancing, playful tease. "You wore such a confident front, sometimes, back then, that finally seeing you fumble"—and Blaine knew he wasn't just talking about his silly condom announcement, but the events of that whole tumultuous week—"made it okay if I did, too."

"Did I wake up your protective side?"

"Yes. And I woke up your vulnerability."

"That was always there. You just demolished my shell."

Kurt stilled. "I haven't always taken care of what I found underneath."

Blaine looked back at him seriously for a long moment. "I forgive you."

With a cry, Kurt dove at him, and Blaine wrapped him up and kissed back hard. Insistently, Kurt tipped backward, holding tight so that they fell together onto the bed, and Blaine had to let go to brace himself. They shuffled and squirmed until they were squarely in the middle of the mattress, and Kurt parted his legs so that Blaine fell between them. Kurt's skin was flushed, his eyelashes wet, and he had one arm locked in a death grip across Blaine's shoulders, but he held eye contact. Blaine cradled his face and kissed him again, quietly, gentling. "Husband," he murmured.

"That's me," Kurt whispered back, smiling. "That's you." And then, "Tell me what you want, Blaine. Anything." 

Blaine gave him one more lush kiss before sliding to the side and trailing his fingertips down Kurt's arm. He lifted Kurt's hand and kissed his knuckles. Kurt sighed, and Blaine paused just to smile for joy at how susceptible this man was to the tiniest romantic gesture. He wrapped Kurt's hand around his cock, nuzzled their faces back up close together, and said, "Just like this. Like you said."

"Really? My silly first time replay?"

"I love your hands. And I don't need complicated. All I need is you."

Kurt turned toward Blaine, changing the angle of his grip, and propped his head on his other hand. "I love you," he said, as he began to stroke Blaine slowly and firmly. And then he swallowed, like he was mustering his determination. And then he didn't stop talking. "You're so beautiful. You have the most generous soul in the world. The way you look at me makes me believe in miracles." 

Blaine gasped and stared back. His hips jerked, which made Kurt slow and change tactics. He rubbed the underside of Blaine's cock with the flat of his palm and rolled his balls between gentle fingers, then shifted his hand away to caress his thighs. Blaine's eyelashes fluttered. 

"My best friend," Kurt said. "Do you remember the first time I touched you like this?"

"Ev—ah!—everything." 

"You were the first person on the planet who ever made me feel powerful." 

Blaine's voice broke on Kurt's name. Kurt swept his hand up again, smoothing lingeringly across Blaine's belly and chest all the way to the hollow of his throat, which he touched with one careful, reverent finger. And all the time he poured an endless stream of love and praise in Blaine's ear—Kurt, who was, as a rule, all but non-verbal in bed.

"Kiss me, oh God, Kurt, kiss me." Blaine arched off the bed as Kurt complied, and Kurt gave him everything his body was begging for, curling his fist back around his cock and jerking him firm and slick and fast until he came with a groan. Kurt kept kissing, small, sipping kisses as he petted his hair and murmured to him. 

A long, quiet minute later, Blaine stretched, sleepily and luxuriously, and reached up to cup Kurt's cheek. "Your turn," he promised valiantly, and yawned. Kurt grinned, cracked a sympathetic yawn, and tossed the tissue with which he'd been dabbing at Blaine onto the nightstand. 

Kurt chewed his lip for a moment, and said, "Could you—could you lie on me, please? If you're not too tired?" and Blaine replied by raising himself on his arms, and twisting and rummaging at the bottom of the bed for the flung-back sheet and blanket. With a neat tug and a flick, he let them billow up and float back down to envelop them both. Kurt rolled onto his back and Blaine sank down over him and wrapped him in a hug. 

Kurt sighed and wriggled as he took Blaine's weight, got his arms around his back and drew up his knees. His neglected cock throbbed, trapped between them. He brushed his lips over Blaine's neck and the nook of his shoulder and began to rock his pelvis minutely, savoring the molasses slow, diffuse build of pleasure. 

"Is this okay? You're not too sensitive?" he asked, mindful of Blaine's softness.

"No. I love this."

It wasn't something Kurt asked for often, going on the bottom and being covered by Blaine's weight and heat. He too easily felt smothered. Sometimes, though, a switch seemed to flip in his brain. Blaine gathered him closer, bracing on his forearms and bearing sweetly down at the hips, not quite thrusting, just moving in instinctive counterpoint to Kurt's short, whimpering pants. When the pants became moans, high and long and shaky, Blaine put his lips to Kurt's ear. "Do you want me to suck you?" Kurt nodded frantically, and Blaine scooted under the sheet and took Kurt in his mouth. Kurt came with a choked off wail, and then another as Blaine smoothly sank down deeper and swallowed around him.

Drawing off with a peaceful hum, Blaine took the hand that was buried in his hair and laced it with his own. Kurt tugged him upward and pouted for a kiss. Blaine's cock had started to plump up again, just a little, but he was content to ignore it until morning. It was a good feeling, that drowsy, anticipative deferral.

Kurt clung, and then relaxed, and then hummed his own hum against Blaine's mouth. And then they were smiling at each other like fools. "Consummation complete," Kurt announced at normal volume. 

Blaine burst into laughter. "No takebacks."

Kurt brought their still-linked hands up so he could examine Blaine's ring. Mimicking Blaine's earlier gesture, he kissed it.

"Turn off the light?" 

Blaine stretched to click off the bedside lamp, then snuggled back down into Kurt's open arms. Kurt tugged and prodded at him until he was satisfied with their position. They mumbled, "I love you," one last time, just because they could, and fell asleep.


End file.
